Still, as a freedom-loving American, that’s not what worries me most about Jacoby’s rationale for robust interrogations in faraway places. What worries me is that it was submitted in January to the U.S. District Court for the Southern District of New York to explain techniques used on an American citizen by DIA interrogators after that citizen was arrested and jailed in the United States of America.The man’s name is José Padilla. Some 15 months ago, Attorney General John Ashcroft commanded worldwide attention when he announced dramatically (on live TV from Russia of all places) that Padilla had been plotting to set off a “dirty bomb” in the United States. Padilla, a high-school dropout and former gang member from Chicago, had drifted into the orbit of Osama bin Laden in Afghanistan and had been persuaded to bring a terror campaign back to the United States. Or, rather, to think about doing it. Or, at least, he surfed the Web trying to find out how he might do it. The FBI questioned him for a month, then handed him over to the Pentagon.
Padilla was declared an “enemy combatant” based on the assertion—not the presentation—of “some evidence” by the administration that he was a bin Laden bad guy. As an enemy combatant, Padilla has no right to appear in court. And he has no right to see a lawyer. Indeed, by executive fiat, he’s been deprived of every inalienable right with which our creator endowed us. The Lawyers Committee for Human Rights has filed a brief in the case damning this approach as (quoting James Madison) “the very definition of tyranny.”
And for what? Whatever Padilla knew in May 2002 when he was caught, the intelligence he can give these days is not exactly real-time. Indeed, the only information he’s received at the Naval Brig in South Carolina, probably including when it is day and when it is night, comes from his interrogators. So why not let him see counsel? Why not present him to the court?
Admiral Jacoby’s rationale is fascinating: first of all, because there might be something the interrogators missed, or can find out if there are new suspects captured somewhere else sometime. And you wouldn’t want Padilla to have any sense of hope if they need to question him again: “Any delay in obtaining information from Padilla could have the severest consequences for national security and public safety.” Secondly—and this is what’s really creepy—because Padilla might reveal “sources and methods.” That is, he might talk about precisely those means that were used to make him talk, therefore he can never be allowed to talk at all.
If the courts buy this line of argument, then we Americans can kiss our sweet rights goodbye. And reading the admiral’s brief, you have to ask yourself if that isn’t really the goal: to give the president and his people the power to treat all Americans like José Padilla, unless and until we give the answers expected of us.
